Truth or Do you Dare?
by AppleA
Summary: A strange series of events is coming...what ever you do don't fall asleep, or they'll get you too. -Spoof, but I try to keep them IC as best I can- Well, I'm back from my long hiatus! And sorry this update took so long!
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I'm back! I do hope you like this, and as with all my stories, it's not quite what it appears to be. ;D Thank you guys for being so understanding with my gigantic hiatus. ^^**

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Dr. Watson woke up knowing something was wrong. His soldier's senses, kept keen by constant exposure to danger, were rarely wrong on this point.

He sat up quickly, his eyes snapping open, his hands flying to the drawer where he kept his revolver. He was a bit disoriented when his hands met nothing and his eyes saw only white. He slowly brought his hands in front of his face and discovered to his extreme relief that he could see theme. He began to gently, if unsteadily, stand. He was perplexed to note that whatever his feet were standing on was the exact same shade as the horizon. Actually, as far as he could tell there _was_ no horizon in this place, wherever it was.

He was also concerned to note, that although he had clearly _felt_ his bedclothes upon waking, he could not see them. He could see his own soft pale nightclothes, but nothing else. He was very grateful that he could even see those. He was even more grateful that the temperature here was neither unduly hot nor cold, otherwise he would be hard pressed to remain comfortable.

He twitched his thumbs and 3rd finger as he stood deep in thought for a moment contemplating his situation. He hit upon a thought, and closed his eyes. Keeping his eyes closed, he held his arms outstretched and fingers wide, looking for all the world like he was playing a game of blind man's bluff with himself. He dropped to his knees after a few moments and started groping about like a blind beggar, or a thief who had dropped his darklantern and sack of jewels. He suddenly gave a small cry of delight as his fingers met the fabric of his bedsheets. His eyes flew open and the exulted grin withered off his face and he saw that he was clutching nothing.

"Curious…"

He cautiously moved his hands slowly up and down the length of the fabric. It certainly _felt_ like his sheets…

He soon discovered the feeling of his sheets only lasted for approximately his measurements. He even discovered part of his pillow, and felt the crater his head had left. But the strangest of all these discoveries was when his questing fingers went outside the crater and fell down with a bump.

_The feeling of the bedclothes only lasted to what he had been sleeping on._

He sat on the bedding and wondered what in Heaven's name was going on.

-

Holmes sat up, perched on the couch as he puffed furiously at his pipe. His brain raced along a thousand trains of deduction faster than could be recorded as he attempted to solve the intriguing little puzzle that had been brought to his attention by a rather diminutive, but attractive, housewife in a most unusual situation. After a few hours of solid puffing he leapt up with a perfect shriek of exultation.

"I've got it! I have him now!"

With that he sprang into his bedroom and with stunning alacrity proceeded to throw on his clothes and hat and dashed out the door, slamming it behind him. So exhilarated was he that he scarcely gave a thought to the disturbance this would cause his sleeping flatmate. Let Watson chide him later!

He fairly flew into the telegraph office, badly frightening the young clerk on duty as he dashed off his three messages with a frighteningly focused expression on his sleepless face. After delivering his messages, Holmes whistled loudly for a cab and managed to hop into on even at such a late hour.

"To Bakerstreet cabby!" he cried joyously. He settled back into his seat, and contentedly lit his second-best pipe which had fortuitously been nesting in this particular jacket's pocket forgotten. By the time he alighted and his destination, he had calmed down to a profound sense of peace and benevolence to the world. He payed the cabby and remembered not to slam the door, but it was a near thing. He started whistling a simply _lovely_ tune from Nocturne Op. 9 as he took the stairs one at a time.

He quietly made his way to his chair by the smoldering fire and idly considered composing something on his faithful Stradavius, but out of deference to Watson (who had looked rather done-up when Holmes saw him heading up to bed) he decided against it. It was far too late to perform experiments, besides, he was out of some supplies and the shop wouldn't open until morning. There was no call for cocain thank Heaven. And Watson wasn't here to talk to.

His excitement rather dampened at his point, he (rather crossly) decided the only thing left to do would be to update his files. This had been an interesting case, but there wasn't much call for cutting and pasting. He contemplated scribbling "Solved affair of 27 drowned cats. Was a booby-trap for Mrs. Jefferies' husband to walk on while on his beat. Designed by neighbor, William Hemmer, who coveted his wife. Constable Jefferies was ill with cold for a week, and the bobby assigned to his beat didn't go as far out onto the docks. Cats got caught in the trap when trying to get at the fish. Very amusing if a tad simple." And calling it a day. But his swift mind decided on telling Watson when he arose at some thoroughly respectable hour all about the case and amusing himself later by reading his rendering of the account resplendent in all its floridity in his diary. Yes, he decided he would do that. Chuckling a bit, he nestled himself deeper into his chair as the adrenaline from the case left him and his eyes began to droop.

-

"Good Lord Holmes!" Watson exclaimed as Holmes sat up and rubbed his eyes at the blank whiteness all around him. "How in Heaven's name did you get here?"


	2. Chapter 2

I'm terribly sorry for the long wait guys, feel free to kick me till the cows come home. D:

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After hasty explanations, cross talk, and comparing evidence (Watson showed Holmes his phantom sheets and felt around until he discovered the traces of Holmes' armchair) Holmes paced around in a circle, his brow creasing in concentration, his lower lip coming to the front as he began to gnaw at it.

Astonishment grew as Mycroft, Moriarty, Wiggins, Lestrade, and Hopkins appeared (in that order) is a most miraculous fashion. Mycroft appeared faster than a blink, prone and resplendent in dark blue flannel. Moriarty softly shadowed in and out for quite some time, eventually becoming fully solid in his genteel mauve nightclothes. Wiggins was propped up on what appeared to be moving bodies whose elbows got into his eyes and other organs just as he was beginning to become clearer. But soon everyone settled down and Wiggins appeared in all his grubby glory. It was disconcerting, and slightly macabre, to feel the invisible limbs gently wriggling about over the invisible cobblestones Wiggins brought with him. Thankfully to everyone's sensibilities, Hopkins and Lestrade came in more conventional settings, although it was amusing to see they both were wearing their boots.

When they had all gathered and had milled about in a daze of confusion for some time, a nasally, grating voice boomed out:

**"And now that you're all here, we're going to play a little game with you! MuahahahahahahGAAAK!"**

The speaker, wherever they were, had laughed so hard they choked, a disgusting sound, but twenty times more repulsive when amplified.

Another voice yelled it's presence known with an irritating, high-pitched **"Can't you do anything right? God, how em-barassing!"** A sigh came forth, and they all clapped their hands over their ears at the monstrous racket.

**"I am Lady Ami-Chan,"** the second voice declared pretentiously,** "And this is my friend Dark_Princess__Cullen. And we are going to play a game called Truth Or Dare."**

During this remarkable speech, Sherlock Holmes had drawn himself up to his full height, and his eyes began to flash. Dr. Watson quietly stood next to Holmes, his body held tense and ready, his eyes silently joining Holmes' in the search for the source of the voices. Wiggins had moved as far away from the gently moving spectral limbs, and had migrated next to Mycroft. At the sound of the voices, Wiggin's fright had turned to anger and he drew closer to Mycroft. Mycroft, for his part, was more relaxed than his brother, but his eyes still flashed as keenly. Moriarty drew close to Sherlock Holmes, his keen hooded eyes flickering to Holmes'. Holmes indicated with his eyes to where he though the second voice was coming from. Moriarty imperceptibly nodded and began looking for the first voice's hideaway.

To goad the voices into revealing themselves, Sherlock Holmes coldly spoke in his typical brusque fashion. "Well ladies, have fun at your game. If you would be so good as to return us, we shall leave you to it."

A harsh noise, horrible and sudden, like high-pitched gunfire roared down at them. Watson had heard similar sounds during his time in Afghanistan, when loathsome carrion beasts had discovered a new corpse. It sounded like hyenas.

**"No no no, that's not the _point!_"** Gleefully declared the first voice they now knew to belong to Dark_Princess__Cullen. **"_You_ are going to play to the rules _we_ set while _we_ watch."**

Both the Holmes' expressively lifted an eyebrow.

Lady Ami-Chan went on to explain in her horrible shrill voice **"We will offer each one of you each the option of telling the Truth, or doing something we Dare you to. When you complete the challenge, you get 2 points. If you fail to do a Dare, or lie during a Truth, you lose a point. When you get 20 points you can go home. If you lie during a Truth, we'll know, so don't try it!"** Here, the voice gave the impression she was sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes.

**"Yeah,"** giggled Dark_Princess__Cullen,** "The walls monitor your pulse and temperature. When you lie, they change. When the walls sense a change they'll flash red and you'll be BUS-TED!"** Here there was a noise like the slapping of two hands together in a loud, meaty BANG and more of the awful giggling. Mycroft Holmes had surreptitiously covered Wiggins ears, to Wiggins evident relief.

**"So,"** they giggled both together with a sound like rocks grating against one another, **"Let the games begin!"**


End file.
